Letters from Tony
by ytteb
Summary: Reading Tony's letters might tell us a lot about him and what he thinks of the team and the job.
1. Chapter 1

_Spoilers for "South by South West" as we learn more about Tony from reading his letters and meeting someone special to him. I own Mary but no-one else._

Dear Mary

It was great to see you last week ... obviously not good that it was at a funeral but you know what I mean. Hope you enjoyed visiting your sister afterwards – or at least that you managed not to fall out too much with Harold. Has he still got the pigeon loft? I remember being a bit freaked out by all that cooing and the way they looked at me out of those beady little eyes – made me more of a fan of pigeon pie than I might have been otherwise!

Sorry it's taken so long to write again – you know it would be much easier if you'd let me email you but I know that's an argument (another one!) that I'm not going to win. So, I've got the good writing paper out and Mom's Parker pen and I'm sitting nicely at my desk rather than writing this on my lap in front of the TV. It takes me back to writing those weekly letters home from boarding school. Come to think about it, it was probably you I was writing to you in those days. We all know Senior wasn't really interested – unless some new rich boy had been enrolled whose father might turn out to be a potential business 'partner'.

Anyway, I've just come back from Arizona. Yeah, Arizona – where I swore I'd never go again. Turned out that the power of Gibbs's glare pretty much swept that resolution away. I just nodded and went home to pack: packing those fancy cowboy boots Petey gave me was probably not the best idea I ever had. Well, that's what the grumpy local sheriff thought anyway and Gibbs just sighed. We ended up on horseback riding up a mountain to find a local artist who had some connection with an NCIS agent who'd been murdered in DC. Gibbs managed to do a sort of one man Die Hard (yes, that's another movie) stunt when he brought down a helicopter single-handed. Sheriff (good guy really) took a bullet but he's going to be OK. Don't worry, I'm all right too apart from being a bit sore in the ... well, you know where. It's been a long time since those pony parties in Long Island.

Gibbs was a bit grumpy with me the whole trip and had been for a few days before and not just because of the NCIS agent being killed, although that didn't help. I'd been playing phone tag with Uncle Clive's solicitor for a couple of days and, yes, perhaps I'd got a bit overexcited in case it was about the WILL. Ziva thought I'd made up the whole thing about going to Uncle Clive's funeral just to get time off and McGee hadn't even bothered to Google what his surname was. Some investigators they are – although I can almost hear you saying that perhaps they're just not as nosy as I am!

I was excited at the thought that Clive might have remembered me in his will – I loved the guy. That summer I spent in England was great but perhaps I went over the top a bit talking about it to the Probie and perhaps waving a Ferrari brochure around was a mistake. All that 'yabba yabba' probably got on Gibbs' nerves and then he asked me, all gruffly, whether I'd be leaving NCIS if I inherited Uncle Clive's money. You know, Mary, I hadn't really thought it through what I'd do with the money but I started thinking after that conversation over a tin of cold beans (don't ask).

There was a letter from the solicitor waiting for me at home when I got back from Arizona – made sense really that they wouldn't want to tell me over the phone. Once I read the letter I decided what to do. I went to work the next day and made 'the phone call to Uncle Clive's lawyer'. Except that it was Petey on the other end and he fed me the lines we'd agreed. I told the others that Crispian had inherited everything including an IOU I'd given Uncle Clive when I was at OSU and that he was demanding payment with interest. That's probably being a bit mean to Crispian but I still think it was him who locked me in the pigeon loft so a bit of character assassination is some revenge. Anyway, everyone was happy. DiNozzo disappointed again but the team can go on as before. Nothing changes. Gibbs almost smiled.

And what was in the letter from London, you want to know. Well, good old Uncle Clive left me half a million pounds worth of stocks and bonds. Don't worry, I haven't gone out and bought the red Ferrari. Uncle Vincenzo recommended a good broker (an honest one, I checked) and I'm letting him get on with it. I think it was the right thing to do – best to keep it quiet; can you imagine what Senior would do if he found about it? And no-one at work would have believed it if I'd said that I wanted to carry on working – not sure I believe it sometimes!

I'll finish now. Kate sends her love and I send mine too.

Ciao, Tony.

NCISNCIS

'Mary' smiled as she finished reading the letter. Tony was a good correspondent although she knew that she'd hear from him more often if she got an email account ... or rather, if she told him her email address. For a nosy investigator he'd never really probed her about apparently not being on-line but perhaps he enjoyed the ritual of writing the Sunday letters as much as she enjoyed receiving them.

She thought back to the day over thirty five years ago when she had first met the DiNozzos and found her life changing. She had been thirty years old, an experienced and trained nanny from England. Clive Paddington and his family had employed her to go to New York to be nanny to eight year old Anthony DiNozzo whose mother Elizabeth DiNozzo née Paddington had died a few months before. The Paddingtons had been a bit tightlipped but the implication was clear that they didn't quite trust the parenting skills of their beloved Elizabeth's husband. They had tried to persuade Anthony Snr to send his son to England to be cared for but he had refused. The next best thing was to send a British nanny over to make sure all was done properly.

She had arrived at the impressive DiNozzo residence in Long Island where she had first met the very charming Mr DiNozzo who was obviously a bit wary of the whole set up but was determined to keep on the right side of his son's wealthy English relations. After listening to him talk for about an hour she finally suggested that perhaps it would be a good idea to meet her new charge. Mr DiNozzo seemed a bit surprised that anyone would want to meet his son but agreed that this would be a good idea.

"And where is Anthony at the moment," she had asked. Senior was puzzled,

"I don't know. I'll call Simpson and ask him, He'll probably know." He pressed a bell and the butler soon entered the room.

"Where's Junior, Simpson?"

"I think he's in the garage, Sir, looking at your new car." Senior looked a bit anxious,

"Go and get him, will you, Simpson. I don't want him to get finger marks on the paintwork and I want him to meet Miss Poplar, the new nanny."

"Yes, Sir." Simpson cast an appraising look at Miss Poplar as he left on his errand as he tried to weigh up her future place in the DiNozzo household.

Shortly afterwards, they heard the sound of small running footsteps as the child approached. A small boy ran into the room clutching a wet, soapy sponge to his chest and dripping suds on to the parquet flooring.

"Daddy, Daddy, I've been helping Trevor wash your new car. He's going to show me how to wax it later ... oh, hello," he said when he saw that there was a stranger in the room. He looked a bit uncertain and suddenly rather conscious of the wet sponge which he tried to hide behind his back.

"Simpson, take that away from Junior and return it to Trevor. Tell him that Junior won't be helping him wax the car."

"Yes, Sir. Will that be all?"

At Senior's nod, he took the soggy sponge off Tony, smiled at him encouragingly and left the room.

"Junior, you remember that I said that your Uncle Clive was sending you a nanny from England to help me look after you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good, Well, say hello to Miss Miriam Poplar ..."

"Mary Poppins!" said Tony in a tone of wonder. Miriam disliked Mary Poppins – she thought she gave nannies a bad name and she _never _gave her children sugar to help their medicine to go down. Up to now she had managed to keep a professional distance from the children in her care but somehow, on that day, as she looked down at the hopeful, bright-eyed young Tony, something in her heart shifted.

Senior sighed in irritation,

"No, Junior, Miriam Poplar, not Mary Poppins. I'm sorry, Miss Poplar, my son is having some hearing difficulties at the moment. He has an appointment with the paediatrician tomorrow".

"I'm sorry," said Tony, "Miri ... Mari ... Miriay ..."

Miriam took pity on him.

"Miriam – but it's quite a difficult name to say. Why don't you call me Mary?" Miriam's former colleagues would have been astonished to hear this. The particular, professional Miss Miriam Poplar inviting a child to give her a nickname? Tony looked relieved,

"Mary ... er, welcome to America. I didn't mean to be rude but I sort of hoped that you might be Mary Poppins. Mommy and I watched the movie and she read the book to me as well – but I liked the movie more." Tony gazed up at her rather sadly. Miriam, or rather, Mary, looked at him and realised that, indeed, this small child did probably long for a Mary Poppins to come and bring warmth and healing to a sad household. She resolved that she would do her best for this lost soul.

"That's all right, poppet, I may not know any ... er sweeps, but I'm sure I can find my way to your doctor."

"My name is Anthony Daniel DiNozzo, not poppet," said Tony anxiously.

"'Poppet' is an English word for something small and sweet", said Mary, wondering what on earth had made her use the endearment her mother had always used.

"Do you think I'm small and sweet?" asked Tony in a tone of disbelief.

"Well," said Mary briskly, "you're certainly small. We'll have to work on that. Come on, why don't you show me your bedroom." They walked hand in hand out of the room – the beginning of a great friendship.

_AN: probably not going to be a Tony Kid fic although he made an appearance here._


	2. Chapter 2

_Small spoilers for 'Restless'._

Dear Mary

Thanks for the Get Well card – wonder how many of those you've sent me over the years! The headache's mostly gone now but I still feel a bit fuzzy. Still, I must be looking a bit better 'cos the Boss head slapped me the other day – sorry, I know you don't approve of them. On the other hand, perhaps I still look under the weather because Ziva and McGee have been nice to me, they both bought me a present to cheer me up so that was good. They each got me tickets for female mud wrestling – not sure if that's so good. I've still got them – fancy coming with me when you're next in DC? Didn't think so.

Mary, did I ever tell you about Stinky John? How I strung him up the school flagpole by his underwear? I've told loads of people about it over the years – I know Senior knew the story and he thought it was hilarious. Well, the case we just finished started just before the victim's Homecoming parade and it made me think about the one when I played that trick on Stinky John. Perhaps it's the concussion but somehow it didn't seem so funny this time and it played on my mind a bit. You know me, always been a bit too keen on the practical jokes but I don't usually want to hurt people. I _think _I only play them on people who are bit too full of themselves, a bit too overconfident. I still can't believe I managed to catch McGee out with the superglue on his keyboard that many times! As a NCIS Special Agent he should be aware of his environment at all times – you think he'd have learnt his lesson after the first couple of times ... but NOOO!, again and again I caught him. Haven't done it for a while though.

Anyway, I felt guilty about Stinky John, actually confided in McGee a bit. He didn't seem to think it mattered very much – like he said, we were both kids at the time. Still, I couldn't get it out of my head so I decided to find him and say sorry. Then I remembered that his surname is Smith – John Smith, well that's almost impossible. Fortunately I have a super techno sleuth on my team and McGeek rose to the challenge and found him in about six nano seconds. I realise I don't actually know how long a nano second is but I'm pretty sure it's short.

So I found a greetings card – not as nice as the ones you send me – and wrote an apology and went off to find John (I'm trying not to think of him as Stinky anymore). He seems a nice guy, he recognised me almost at once but he seemed a bit gobsmacked when I said 'sorry'. Turns out that I didn't do the stringing up; I was the stringee – he wound _me_ up the flagpole and left me there. Mary, now that he told me, I sort of vaguely remember dangling there hoping someone would rescue me but I can't remember when I started telling the story the other way round ... or why I did. I told Gibbs about it – he did his usual surprisingly helpful grunting about it. He said I didn't need to tell McGee about it but I will. Perhaps that bang on my head knocked something loose but it doesn't seem right to carry on telling a lie about it. I may not always tell people everything but I try not to tell outright lies. I go in for lies of omission rather than commission. Besides, McGee and I need to be able to trust one another in the field and it wouldn't feel right to have misled him over something.

Sorry to unload all this on you but I guess you've got used to it after all these years. Let me know if you fancy going to the mud wrestling.

Kate's not talking to me at the moment because I changed her fish food to a brand she doesn't like – that means I can't send you her love. So you get a double helping of mine instead.

Ciao. Tony

NCISNCIS

Mary took her glasses off as she finished reading the letter and tried to think back to Tony's days at boarding school. She'd always known that the Paddingtons intended to pay for Tony to be sent away to school when he was eleven and that turned out to fit neatly with Senior's plans. He'd put a good face on everything but she suspected that it was becoming a struggle to keep the Long Island home going. Tony going away to school would mean that he could rent the house out and go on his travels trying to find the perfect scheme to make money. Unsurprisingly he didn't give much thought to what would happen to Tony in the holidays but, in his eyes, money could fix most problems and if that failed, he would exercise his considerable charm instead.

Tony had also always known that he would be going away to school but at eight years old, three years is a lifetime away and he hadn't seemed to worry about it too much. As Mary got to know her young charge better she realised that, as open and friendly as he seemed to be, Tony still kept things hidden. She had no doubt that Tony loved and trusted her but the death of his mother had taught him that even people who loved him could disappear and that it was best not to rely on them too much. The staff at the Long Island house were fond of the owner's son but Tony knew that they could find other jobs and move on. His English family were kind but geographically distant and his father was, to put it kindly, too distracted and busy to pay attention to the ramblings of an eight year old. Mary knew that Tony had no reason to think that she wouldn't leave him and, as the 'boarding school' time loomed, she wondered what to do about that.

Tony's early schooling was at a prestigious Long Island establishment which was intellectually demanding. Tony was bright and was usually in the top quarter of the class and got good grades but he was unlikely ever to be top. Then, in the year before he was due to go away to school, he suddenly seemed to get control of his body, he finally seemed to grasp how his feet and legs worked and he began to acquire grace in his movements. He discovered that he could run faster than the other children, could throw the ball further and jump higher: in short, he discovered sports and excelled at them. For the first time he was the best at something and a new joy entered his being. Mary began to think that boarding school would be good for Tony – the one picked out for him had an outstanding academic reputation and also had excellent sporting facilities and programs. Tony seemed excited too.

In the summer before he was due to go, however, Mary began to notice a change. Tony became a bit listless and lethargic and, uncharacteristically, a bit clingy with her. He didn't say anything, however, but carried on with his usual stoicism. Tony seemed to have developed a fine sense of when it was worth arguing about something and when it was best to accept that things had to be as they were. Then, one day, Tony went missing. At first Mary wasn't too worried – Tony was an active child and she didn't keep him tied to her apron strings. After a couple of hours, and a missed milk and cookies snack, she got the household staff to start looking for him. They couldn't find him and Mary was about to think of calling the police in case he had been kidnapped by people misguided enough to think Senior had enough money to pay a ransom, when she remembered an old story Simpson the butler had told her. It seemed that shortly before Tony's mom died, he had climbed to the top of a tree near to the house and refused to come down. An idea entered Mary's head.

She went up to Tony's bedroom, opened the window and looked out into the tree that stood nearby. There she saw Tony huddled on one of the branches.

"Tony, what are you doing out there? You missed your snack time."

Tony turned his head away and wouldn't look at her.

"Tony, what's the matter? You know you can tell me."

Tony shook his head and then rubbed his eyes against his shoulder.

"Oh, poppet, won't you come in?" Tony rarely cried and it hurt her to see him crying and feeling that he had to hide his tears. Mary didn't often call him 'poppet' and it made Tony look at her a bit more hopefully but he still shook his head.

"I think I'll stay here," he said solemnly.

Mary pretended to consider this.

"It will be difficult for Simpson to bring your tea out there and Cook has made peanut butter cookies for you – she'll be disappointed if you don't eat them". This seemed to strike a chord with Tony and his tummy made a well-timed rumble as testimony to the missed snack. He was obviously tempted but still said,

"That's all right, I like it out here."

"But you won't be able to practise basket ball out there."

"OK," said Tony, as the temptations of basket ball and cookies outweighed his eleven year old sorrows for the moment. He clambered along the branch and dropped into his bedroom and looked a bit defiantly at his nanny as he waited to see what she would do. Mary took him by surprise as she said, seemingly casually,

"I've got a new job to go to, Tony."

Tony stiffened and, for a moment, he looked horrified but then he blinked and composed his face into bland indifference.

"I'm going to be working as a school nurse in a town in Rhode Island."

Tony began to look a bit more interested.

"It turns out not to be too far from your new school. I thought, if you wanted to, that you could come and visit me sometimes at weekends and some of the holidays. Would you like that?"

Tony wasn't normally a very demonstrative boy so his sudden fierce hug of Mary told her everything she needed to know about his approval of the scheme. And so it turned out. Mary worked nearby to Tony's boarding school and, because she also worked at a school, she had weekends and school holidays available to be with Tony if he needed her.

Now, after reading Tony's letter about Stinky John, she thought back to what had happened at that Homecoming Day.

Tony had been a bit subdued when she arrived at the school – on the whole, he had settled in well, was academically successful and beginning to shine on the sports field. He was still a bit small for his age and had been picked on a bit but the school was meant to be keeping an eye on that and Mary wasn't unduly worried.

"Hi, Mary," he greeted her, "there's tea in the dining room if you want it."

"Why don't we go for a walk first," she suggested, to give him a chance to tell her if there was anything on his mind.

"Senior's supposed to be coming soon," said Tony.

Mary was surprised to hear this and wondered if it accounted for Tony's quietness. They walked around the school grounds for a while but Tony didn't seem to want to confide in her. When they returned they saw Senior standing near the entrance working his charm on the attractive mother of one of Tony's fellow pupils. He broke off as Tony ran towards him shouting,

"Daddy, Daddy!'.

Senior chuckled embarrassedly and held out his hand for Tony to shake, thus fending off a hug.

"Junior, no need to run. Why, Miss Elm, isn't it?"

"Poplar," said Mary a little frostily. "I work nearby and come to see Tony sometimes."

"That's ... er, nice," said Senior. "Now, Junior, what have you been getting up to? Mrs Dalrymple here was telling me the story of one of the young boys being strung up the flag pole by his underwear." And he laughed uncontrollably, "I'd have loved to see that, someone must be a great practical joker. I'm going in to have a cup of tea – or something stronger," and he turned to go into the school seemingly unaware of the disapproving looks of Mrs Dalrymple and Mary and of the stricken face of Tony.

Mary had always wondered why Tony had looked so upset but, now reading Tony's letter, a piece of the puzzle fell into place. Tony, who, at that stage at least, had still adored his father and wanted to please him had learned that stringing a child up on a flagpole was something to be proud of – no wonder he had flipped it in his head. She put the letter back into its envelope and sighed for the wounded child who still lived inside her Tony.


	3. Chapter 3

_Some spoilers for 'Rekindled'._

Dear Mary

Thank you for the box of peanut butter cookies – I'm really glad you got the recipe from our old cook. I thought about taking them into work but McGee is so addicted to nutter butters that he would have wolfed the lot down and it wouldn't have been good for him!

I had a blast from the past over the last few days – almost literally. Do you remember Jason King – the boy from the fire in Baltimore? Well, we got called to a fire in a warehouse in Baltimore and there he was, all grown up and working as a detective for Baltimore PD. I don't know that I expected him to fall on my neck or go down on his knees in gratitude but he ... was distinctly cool. Threw me really and I tried to angle for NCIS to walk away from the investigation. That didn't work – of course – Gibbs's spidey senses went off and the next thing I knew Jason was working in Abby's lab and charming the lab coat off her (metaphorically, of course) _and _Gibbs put us together as much as possible.

It turned out that Jason's been blaming me all these years for not rescuing his sister as well – I guess he was blaming himself as well for not looking after her better. If he'd been a bit younger I suppose he might not have remembered so much about it – sometimes I wish I could forget some of the memories I've got from being eight or nine. Still, on the plus side he managed to get over his anger to rescue yours truly from going up in flames on a ship (although to be fair, he also saved himself at the same time). I'm willing to be grateful to him anyway.

I can't really tell you much about the case – we opened up a whole new can of worms (or three) and we'll be on the alert for weeks to come. Good news is that, thanks to Gibbs – again – Jason and I had a heart to heart in the elevator. Strong, silent man stuff you understand but I let him know that I'd agonised, and still do, over not getting his sister out and that rescuing him changed my life. I think, in a funny way, meeting him and seeing what a 'fine, young man' he's grown up to be helped me. I'd always fixated on losing the little girl and forgot that something good came out of that night. He still couldn't bring himself to say 'thank you' though, that was a step too far and I think I understand that better now.

Ziva and McGee guessed that Jason and I had some history and did a bit of digging to find out what – well, I've told you before what a hound dog McGee is and it wasn't difficult to find. I'm not sure they understood why I hadn't 'boasted' about it and, to be fair, how could they without knowing about the lost girl?

Gratitude's a funny thing, isn't it? Jason wasn't really grateful, or at least he couldn't express it if he was but I've noticed that it's not a very long lasting emotion. I know sometimes I've felt really grateful to someone and then felt guilty the next day for getting irritated with them for something they've done. But, Mary, I hope you know that I've always been grateful to you for what you did for me – it went far beyond the call of being a nanny. I learned something this week about gratitude and I think it's important to say 'thank you' – so if I haven't said it to you before, I say it now – thank you, for everything. Although I do think I'm indirectly responsible for you meeting Carl so you can return the favor and say thank you to me if you want!

Kate's distracted by a new mirror I bought her and is too busy admiring herself to send you her love so, again, a double portion from me.

Ciao

Tony.

NCISNCIS

Mary blinked a couple of times as she reached the end of the letter. She remembered that night in Baltimore very well and had never been sure how well she had handled it.

There had never really been any doubt that Tony was going to do something to play sports at University. Senior had half heartedly tried to persuade him to do something like business studies or law but he was distracted at the time with a divorce from one wife and the courting of a new one so, true to form, left the details to Tony and the Paddingtons. On the whole, Tony's British relatives had been pleased with his performance at boarding school but were a bit bemused to find that they had a potential basket ball or American Football star among their number. The Paddington blue(ish) blood was going to unprecedented places. Uncle Clive, like Senior, might have preferred Tony to get a 'useful' degree that he 'understood' but during the summer Tony stayed with him, he had come to know him better and see his potential. Clive was a wise man and he decided that Tony should follow his heart and be happy – and it didn't hurt when Tony won a couple of scholarships which would help with the bills. He jokingly made Tony sign a couple of IOUs for the help he was being given but that was because he wanted Tony to appreciate the value of money and not take it for granted. He didn't intend ever to ask for the money back.

Things had changed for Mary while living in working in Rhode Island. She didn't spend all her time working and looking out for Tony but got involved with the community activities of the school she worked at. So it was that she met Carl Forrest at a cake sale. Carl taught English at the school and he was immediately attracted to the British woman who baked a mean peanut cookie. They became engaged after six months and then got married in the Christmas vacation. Tony, bursting with pride, gave Mary away and joked that the poplar had joined the forest and he now 'couldn't see the tree for the wood'. It had been a happy marriage and Mary was very content.

When Tony announced that he was going to Ohio to study phys ed (and play a lot of sport), Mary felt a sense of loss that she would no longer be able to keep a close eye on Tony but she realised that parents went through the same thing when their children went off to college. She reckoned without Carl who was fond of Tony, and even fonder of Mary, and who quietly went about finding a new job in Ohio so that his wife could stay close.

Despite Carl and Tony's best efforts, Mary never really got the hang of the American sports Tony loved. She sort of understood basketball, got confused with baseball because it looked a bit like the English rounders she had played in local parks in her childhood and was completely baffled by American Football. None of that prevented her from going to lots of Tony's games and cheering enthusiastically at what she hoped were the appropriate moments.

So when OSU got through to the Final Fours in Baltimore, and after Tony and Carl had made her realise what 'a big deal' that was, she agreed to make the trip to see him play. Tony was buzzing with excitement and couldn't wait for the game.

It was a shock, therefore, when, in the early hours of the morning before the game, Mary was awoken by a loud knocking on her hotel room door. With a sense of dread washing over her, Mary went to the door, looked through the spy hole and saw a very different Tony. She opened the door and pulled him. She noticed immediately that he smelled of smoke, had dirt all over him, a burn on one hand and was shaking.

"Tony, what's happened? Come in, sit down, I'll get you some water."

Tony sat down briefly but then got up again and paced around her small hotel room in agitation.

"Mary, I just lost someone."

Mary wondered briefly if one of his friends had died or perhaps one of the Paddingtons but before she could ask, Tony continued.

"A little girl ... I couldn't get to her. I think she died. Oh, Mary, what did I do?"

"Tony," said Mary in her calmest voice, "come and sit down and tell me what happened. Start from the beginning." Tony, with a clear effort, sat down beside her.

"I'd gone out for a walk, trying to clear my head, you know, calm down before the game. Everyone's so wired, it's really hard. Anyway, I was just walking along when I saw smoke coming out of an apartment block and ... and, then I heard a boy calling out."

Mary grimaced. Tony's hearing was the sharpest she had ever known. Their visit to the paediatrician all those years ago had shown that he had 'glue ear' but, partly at least to her good care, that had all been resolved and his hearing returned to being better than normal. Now, just for a moment, Mary found herself almost regretting his sharp hearing which seemed to have led him into danger.

"Nobody else was doing anything so I ran in," continued Tony, "but I couldn't get to the little girl. I had to leave her behind. Mary, I tried, really I tried."

"I know you did, Tony. So was it the little girl you heard crying from the street?"

"No, it was her brother. I didn't hear _her_ until I was in the apartment."

"And did he get out by himself then?" asked Mary in puzzlement.

"No, I got him out of the closet he was hiding in and carried him out. But just as we were leaving he remembered about his sister and we heard her crying. I started to go get her but the flames were too hot. If I'd carried on I'd have lost the boy as well, I had to go. Mary, he cried all the way out."

"Tony DiNozzo," said Mary firmly, "do you mean to tell me that you ran into a burning building and rescued a little boy and somehow you think that's a bad thing?"

"But I lost the girl," reasoned Tony.

"Tony, you did the right thing, If you hadn't gone into that building _two_ young lives would have been lost. Thanks to you, one life was saved. You did what you had to. I'm proud of you."

Tony looked uncertain for a moment and then his face changed as he did that thing which Mary had seen him do before. He seemed to accept the inevitability of what had happened and decide to bear it with a stoicism which should have been beyond someone of his years.

"Now," said Mary, returning to practicalities, "does Coach know where you are?" At Tony's shake of the head, Mary made a exasperated sound and turned to the phone to call the team's hotel and let them know where one of their star players was. When she hung up the phone and turned round she saw that Tony had fallen asleep sprawled across her bed. She smiled. She managed to shift him around a bit, reflecting that it had been easier when he was eight years old and slightly smaller than six foot two. When she had him straightened out, she sat at the top of the bed and placed his head in her lap, gently smoothing his hair all night until he woke in the morning.

In later years she sometimes wondered if it was too fanciful to think that he had gone to Baltimore as a boy and come back as a man.


	4. Chapter 4

_Time to lighten up a bit ... tiny spoilers for "Minimum Security."_

Dear Mary

Sorry I missed writing last week but just didn't have a chance. We were on a case at Guantanamo Bay, would you believe! Gibbs is pretty much always in our faces anyway but it's even worse when we're out of the country with him – definitely no time to sit and write a proper letter but a postcard might eventually make its way to you. I mailed one just before we left.

You'll have guessed that I won't be able to tell you about the case – I hope you don't think my letters have got duller since I became a Very Special Agent! I never realised how secret it was all going to be.

I _can_ tell you that we flew down there in a Lear Jet – haven't been in one of those since Senior got lucky the year I was thirteen. I can also tell you that I met a rather lovely lady – Paula, she's also a NCIS agent. We danced well together (yes, it was _work_!) and, despite a few hiccups, got on all right. Don't know how much I'll see of her though as she doesn't know where she's going to be based. One thing you'd approve of – she has beautiful handwriting, much better than my scrawl.

And the other thing I can tell you – which will make you laugh. I met my nemesis; that's right an iguana snuck into my bedroom. It's possible I overreacted – let out a girly shriek which had Kate and Gibbs rushing in to my defence. It's possible also that I really should wear those pyjamas you bought me – let's just say that Kate knows me a bit better now than she did. Still, good to know they have my six.

All my love

Tony

NCISNCIS

Mary smiled as she put the letter back into its envelope. She well remembered the first time Tony had encountered an iguana!

Tony had just finished his first full month as a police officer in Peoria and, on his first weekend off, had come to visit Mary and Carl. Tony had burst into the kitchen, hugged her and handed her a brown envelope. Mary opened and pulled out a photo of about twenty earnest looking young police officers standing in three rows. She peered at it trying to pick out Tony. Tony looked over her shoulder and also studied the picture. Finally he put his finger on one blurred face,

"I think that's me – but it's difficult to tell the way we've all got our caps pulled down over our eyes! Oh, thanks," the thank you was for a big mug of hot chocolate accompanied by a plate of Mary's famous peanut cookies. Through a mouthful of crumbs, Tony continued, "Thanks for coming for the passing out – it was good to have a friendly face there. I know we didn't really expect Senior to turn up – but we sort of did him an injustice. He arrived the next day! Said he got the date wrong and tried to insinuate it was all my fault. I didn't argue too much because he had a new fiancée with him and, well, no need to show him up. What number do you think this is, Mary? I think it's probably fiancée number 6 and wife number 3 - if she lasts long enough to get him to the altar. From what he told me (in one of his loud whispers when she'd gone to powder her nose) she's the widow of a Texan oil man and inherited '_millions, Junior_' a couple of years ago. Actually, she seemed quite nice But I might be a bit biased because she's the first girlfriend he's had who's more than twenty years older than me! I think it must have been her who persuaded Senior to turn up at all".

Carl looked on with fascination as Tony continued to demolish the cookies: Mary was used to his appetite but it continued to amaze Carl how Tony could eat with such determination. He used to ask him if he had locust blood.

"How's it going, Tony?" he asked.

Tony swallowed, wiped his mouth free of crumbs, looked mournfully at the empty plate and then said,

"Good I'm teamed up with Sergeant Vincent Price, he's quite old, in his late thirties, not much of a sense of humor – at least not about his name! He says he's never been to a horror movie; just glared at me when I suggested that perhaps his mom had been a fan! We get on OK though, he's a big sports fan, especially wrestling. He's going to show me some moves".

"And what the other officers like?" asked Mary.

"They're good. So far I've had salt in my coffee three times, had my desk saran wrapped, sugar on my eggs twice oh, and glue in the soap in the shower once. It seems tame after boarding school but I think it means they like me. Sarge says that police academy is OK as far as it goes but the real learning comes when you go out in the patrol car".

"What sort of things have you been doing?" asked Carl.

"So far it's been pretty routine. I've learned how to break into locked cars (only when the owners have locked themselves out ... although there was one man who'd killed himself in his car), I set up a road block and given out loads of speeding tickets". He paused to take a gulp of chocolate and then, with a mixture of pride and embarrassment on his face, continued nonchalantly,

"Oh, and I put my tree climbing skills to good use! Sarge and I got called to a house in Peoria Heights – dispatch said there was a report of an animal stuck in a tree. Sarge said it would usually be a case for the Fire Department but as "I'd told him how good I was at climbing trees, he figured he'd give the fire-crew a break". I thought something was up, another bit of hazing but figured it would be best to go along with it. Two other cars 'happened' to arrive just as I was about to shimmy up the tree so that confirmed it. So I was standing at the bottom of the tree and had just worked out the best way to go up when Sarge tapped me on the shoulder".

"Kid, don't you want to know what sort of animal you're looking for?" Mary wondered if 'Sarge' really spoke like Sean Connery but refrained from asking.

"I probably went a bit red – first rule of Police Academy is 'assess the situation before committing' and I'd blown it! I asked him what I was looking for and he stroked his chin seeming to think about it and then called over to the householder who was trying to keep a straight face".

"Mr Doolittle, what sort of animal did you say had escaped?"

"Now I knew this was all a put up job! 'Mr Doolittle' told us that he was missing one iguana, named Cyril. I guess I should be grateful it wasn't a chameleon! Anyway, I pressed my cap on a bit tighter, handed my weapon to Sarge (didn't want to catch it on a branch and shoot myself in the foot, or somewhere else) and climbed up. Did you know that iguanas are a bit tree colored? It took me a while to find this one – I'd almost given up looking when I found myself staring into this beady eye! Really made me jump - I nearly fell out of the tree. I could hear the others laughing below".

"Go on," said Carl, "as Tony paused for dramatic effect or perhaps just to lick a crumb off the plate.

"I was just trying to work out how to grab hold of the thing when I saw something else out of the corner of my eye. The tree was pretty tall and I could see over into the yard that backed on to Mr Doolittle's house. There were a couple of guys breaking the window of the back door and going in through the back of house. I heard Sarge calling me from underneath",

"Hey, DiNozzo, have you got stuck up there? Need me to call the fire service?"

"So I sort of lowered myself down so I was hanging by my knees and beckoned him over and said "Sarge, there's someone breaking in the house behind this one!"

"You sure, kid?" he said.

"So I told him what I'd seen and he told a couple of the others to go round quietly to the road behind. He sent me back up the tree and told me to give him a running commentary on my radio about what I could see. It was good – they caught the burglars red handed and it turned out that they'd done five other robberies in Peoria over the last few weeks. The Captain was pleased, Sarge slapped me on the back and called me Tony for the first time – still put sugar on my eggs the next day though".

"I've asked around a bit and I was right, 'Mr Doolittle' (whose real name is Dobbs) gets roped in every year to play this trick on us rookies. There's a pool on what might happen – broken legs, animal bites, getting stuck in the tree, you know the sort of thing. If the rookie comes down unscathed, his partner wins the pool – they've never caught any criminals before though! I tried to persuade Sarge to give me a share of his winnings but he just laughed".

Tony smiled in obvious contentment. Mary had a question,

"What happened to Cecil?"

"Cyril. He got bored and went back into the house on his own. I never want to see another iguana up that close again!"

"Go and wash up," said Mary, "we'll be eating soon." Tony bounded up the stairs to the guest room.

As Mary prepared the meal she reflected on the last few months and on what Tony had just told her. Mary didn't quite understand the idea of hazing as a rite of passage but it seemed that Tony did and also that he thought it was important as a way of bonding with co-workers.

Tony's hopes of a glittering sporting career had been mostly broken at the same time that his leg was fractured in a match with Michigan but Mary wondered, after the rescue of the boy in Baltimore, whether Tony would have had a change of heart anyway. Some people were surprised that he chose to go into the police instead of trying to find another type of career in sports but Mary wasn't. She was surprised, however, that he decided to go to Peoria rather than staying in Ohio where he had been so happy. Carl suggested that perhaps it was _because _he'd been so happy there that he didn't want to risk things going wrong there and spoiling the memories. Tony had simply said, pragmatically, that Peoria had been the first department that agreed to consider someone still recovering from a broken leg whose return to fitness was not guaranteed. It seemed to be one of those things which Tony felt the need to keep hidden so she didn't probe too much.

Senior hadn't the news that he was about to have a police officer son well and came close to a stand up fight with Tony. This was unusual: not for Senior to want to argue about something but that Tony rose to the challenge and argued back. Tony didn't usually bother to quarrel with his father: if the matter was trivial he would give way but if he thought it was important enough he'd just get on and do it anyway and not waste his energy on a dispute. The fact that Tony cared enough about this to stand his ground showed Mary how important this was to him. Senior threatened to 'cut Junior off' but this had less impact than he might have hoped as his son had few illusions about any of Senior's money coming his way anyway. His Paddington relatives had come to terms with the idea that they wouldn't be hanging a picture of a basket ball player or American football player in their ancestral halls and rather approved of the idea of Tony becoming a policeman - _they_ understood the idea of public service.

So Tony had gone into the Police Academy and done well, graduating towards the top of his class. He had proved to be a good shot – something about which Mary had mixed feelings, she didn't really like the idea of Tony shooting anyone and, even less, the idea of someone shooting _him_. Things were changing for Tony but, surely, Mary had thought, he would be in Peoria for a good long time and steadily work his way up the ladder ... her need to worry about him would soon be over but she might grow tired of the words, "Sarge says ..."


	5. Chapter 5

_The almost obligatory "Boxed In" chapter!_

Dear Mary

Sorry this isn't the usual hand scrawled letter – I had to do it on my lap top and print it out. I got shot (according to me, anyway) in the right arm so writing's a bit tricky at the moment. No need to worry, it's not bad and it managed to miss the Philly scar so it'll heal fine.

It was an 'interesting' day. Ziva and I were sent to do surveillance down in the docks and had to take cover in a container when the bad guys started shooting at us. Then they locked us in – Ziva said I should have thought about that before we dived for shelter in a hail of bullets and maybe she's right but I still haven't figured out what the alternative was. Sorry, I don't mean to worry you – guess I'm a bit frazzled from spending the day in a freezing cold tin box with a narked* ninja.

Don't get me wrong, you know that in some ways I like her and, if we didn't work together I might have made a move but Gibbs – all seeing, all knowing Gibbs – would know and he'd ram rule 12 down our throats. And actually, in this case, I think he'd be right – it takes enough of my energy to deal with her, well, let's call them 'eccentricities', when she's just a co-worker, and subordinate (ha ha) but if she was my partner in another sense too, I think my head would explode.

In other circumstances today, that is without the constant threat of being killed, would have been a good chance to get to know her, find out what's beneath that rather lovely exterior but I think all I learned was that she might be a bit claustrophobic and, oh, she plays piano – no doubt, perfectly as she does everything else. It made me think of my piano lessons – do you remember Madame Oliviére? She certainly taught me good posture at the keyboard but I'll never forget your face when you saw the bruises on my knuckles – you were like an avenging angel! Mr Clarkson was much more mellow, even if he did prefer teaching me jazz to Bach!

You might have been a bit proud of me today – I did a bit of MacGyvering with a cell phone, found a secret compartment and worked out that the millions of dollars we were locked in with were fake. My fellow prisoner refused, on principle I think, to be impressed. I don't know what Gibbs will say to her when he finds out that it was _me_ who took out the shooter who forced us into the container and _she_ managed to miss. Although, to be fair, she pulled off a pretty spectacular shot at the end.

But, Mary, I don't think any of that would matter – it's the day to day sort of to and fro, back and forth that I'm used to. What really mattered was finding out that she'd had a team get together the night before and invited everyone except yours truly. Admittedly I was out that night myself but I hadn't told anyone and I'd have cancelled if she'd invited me – I _never_ turn down an invitation to a team do, not even when it's to one of McGeek's poetry readings or Abby's latest band fad. And _Gibbs, _who's allergic to social intercourse, went as well. Let's just say, I wish Ducky's pain killers worked as well on the soul as they do on the body.

Sorry – I've rambled. Put it down to delayed cabin fever and the usual pain killer loopydom.

I think Kate still loves me, anyway. She was glad to see me when I got home and she sends her fishy love. I send mine too (unfishy, of course) – don't worry, I'll be fine and the next letter will be the usual scrawl.

Tony

PS – we caught the bad guys. And what's _really_ important is that I knew the rest of the team wouldn't stop until they found us ... and Abby was pleased to see me when we got back.

NCISNCIS

Mary frowned as she reached the end of the letter. It was unlike Tony to bare his soul so much and she suspected that the painkillers and stress of the day had played their part. It was when she heard about how dangerous his job could be that she sometimes wished that he'd used his phys ed degree to be a gym teacher. Although, knowing Tony, he'd have attracted trouble doing that.

She thought her heart had probably missed a beat when Tony said he'd been shot – she never got used to hearing about his injuries. She remembered the first time he'd been shot, shortly after he'd moved to Philadelphia. In some ways it hadn't been a big deal although the bullet had broken his arm as well as leaving a hole but she'd been surprised to find how _angry_ she'd been as well as upset. She wanted to go and find the person who had hurt her Tony and ... well, she hadn't known what she'd do. And after finding the person who'd shot him she'd go and give the police chief in Peoria a piece of her mind too. It was her fault Tony was in Philadelphia in the first place.

Tony hadn't really wanted to leave Peoria – his two years there had been good and he had come through relatively unscathed. Then the police chief had decided that she needed to cut the force and looked around to see who could go. She had decided that the 'last in' should be the 'first out' especially if they weren't from Peoria. Some wanted to go so that made her life easier but then it seemed to come down to a choice between two – Tony and Officer Sam Dawkins. Sam was about the same age as Tony but was married with a six month old daughter; he was distraught at the thought of losing his job and Tony volunteered to go.

It had worked out well, really. Tony was given a good recommendation and found a job fairly easily in Philadelphia. Carl and Mary had moved to Baltimore the year before when Carl got a new job as head of English at a school there. Tony moving to Philadelphia meant they were nearer one another. Tony got a small pay off which he used, somewhat to Mary's disapproval, towards buying a Mustang car which was his pride and joy.

Tony got a couple of weeks' sick leave when he was shot in Philadelphia and went to recuperate at Mary and Carl's – it gave Carl a chance to marvel once more at Tony's undiminished appetite and it gave Mary a chance to reassure herself that Tony wasn't hiding anything from her. It was summer vacation time so they all had time to be together. Mary took Tony out for a drive in his Mustang – just once. Tony was usually pretty laid back with Mary but his self restraint took a battering when his 'baby' was in someone else's hands. Mary also suspected that it didn't really do his image much good to be driven around by someone old enough to be his mother! They didn't discuss it but, by mutual consent, Mary stayed away from Tony's car after that.

It should have been a pleasant two weeks but then Tony got a phone call from his old sergeant, Vince Price, from Peoria. Sam Dawkins had been partnered with Vince after Tony left. Vince told Tony that they had been called to a robbery in progress at a drug store and Sam had been shot. He'd been rushed to the hospital but had died shortly afterwards.

Mary watched Tony take the call. At first he had looked delighted to be getting a phone call from 'Sarge' but then his face had lost all color when he heard what Vince had to tell him. He'd put the phone down and sat down abruptly.

"Tony, what's wrong?" asked Mary

"Sam Dawkins has been shot."

"Is he going to be all right?" said Mary.

"Not really. He's dead."

Mary didn't know what to say. She went over to Tony and put her arms round him. He didn't move. They stayed like that for some time and then Tony said,

"It's my fault."

"How is it your fault?" asked a puzzled Mary.

"Perhaps it's not my fault – but it should have been me." Mary's heart lurched in an odd way. She had been proud when Tony had volunteered to leave Peoria – she suspected that the police chief would have chosen Tony to stay rather than Sam if it had come to that. Tony had earned two commendations and done well during his time with the force while Sam had attracted less attention. Now she realised that if Tony had stayed in Peoria it might have been him who had been killed and, for a moment, she rejoiced. Then she felt ashamed – a young wife was mourning the loss of a husband and a baby girl would grow up without a father. Still, she couldn't help but be glad that her Tony was sitting safe within her arms. It gave her a glimpse, however, of what Tony was going through. Relieved to be safe but racked with guilt for being so.

"Oh, Tony, oh, my poppet, you did a good thing and Sam was grateful. You know he was – just hold on to that". She rested her cheek on the top of his head and they stayed there for a while trying to give each other comfort. Mary found herself thinking why it was that she found herself comforting Tony so often: with most people she was bracing and brisk but rarely with Tony. She thought it was probably that Tony was hard enough on himself already and didn't need someone encouraging him in that way of thinking.

Finally, Tony moved out of Mary's arms and stood up.

"Do you think Carl would drive me to Peoria? Or I could take the train – I need to go to the funeral."

"Of course, he will." Mary didn't try to persuade Tony not to go – she realised that he saw it as his duty and would not be dissuaded. It would be the first time he had been to the funeral of a co-worker killed in the line of duty. She hoped it would be the last.

_AN - *narked is used in the UK to mean 'annoyed' – not sure if it is used in the US._


	6. Chapter 6

_References to 'High Seas' – the episode in which we met Stan Burley._

Dear Mary

Still getting used to being on dry land after a few days on the USS Enterprise (the US Navy ship not the spaceship(!) I always like going on board ships but I wouldn't want to stay longer than a few days – I hope I never get posted as Agent Afloat, I'd go mad.

The other 'excitement' was meeting my predecessor Stan Burley. To hear Ducky and Abby talk you'd think he was a cross between a male model, top sports star (all sports, naturally), agent of the year and general saint. To be fair, anyone who manages to stay on Gibbs' team for five years must be something special. Scuttlebutt says that Burley asked for a transfer in the end because he was getting stomach ulcers from Gibbs' glare turning his stomach sour. That will never happen to me ... I'm more likely to have brain damage from all those head slaps. I know you don't really approve but I'm clinging to the idea that they're a sign of affection.

If it wasn't for the fact that I _know_ Stan asked to leave Gibbs' team I'd have thought that he was angling to get back on it. There was a distinct 'needle' in the air but Gibbs does have that effect on us – we all jostle for position when he's in the room. Still, I think Stan went a bit overboard (sorry!) with it and Kate backed me up some of the time. She was a bit dazzled by the Burley aura especially when she found out he'd been a senator's aide before being lured into Gibbs' pool. She enjoyed getting one of her pointy little jabs in when getting me to do a brief resumé of my job history. Thankfully she was too wrapped up in _bello_ Burley to probe into why I left the other places. Like I told her, lots of extenuating circumstances but it did make me wonder if it'll soon be time to move on again but I'd like to think my sell by date is more than two years.

Still not sure what Gibbs was up to on this trip – you'd have thought that Stan was, if not a long lost son at least a favorite nephew. Patted him on the cheek, shook his hand, bought him food ... SMILED. Definitely odd. I kinda hoped it was just absence making the heart grow fonder and, if that's the case, I'm going to take three years' leave at once and disappear for a couple of months. And then, just as we were leaving Stan cracked and admitted that Gibbs hadn't called him by name for months and when he did, he got it wrong. He said Gibbs must really like me as he calls me by name and the right one too!

There are times when I understand why Burley had to get off Gibbs' team – I wouldn't go to the extremes of being Agent Afloat but sometimes an Arctic weather station seems an attractive option. Gibbs has the social skills of a porcupine and the emotional range of a lobster ... but he came when Stan called and I guess that's the important thing. There's no window dressing with Gibbs – what you see is what you get and sometimes what you get doesn't seem very much. He's a devious so and so – I can't help wondering if he set Stan up to tell that story just because he's incapable of admitting to liking anyone. Like I say, the emotional range of a lobster but perhaps he's worth cracking open a bit. Maybe I won't dust off the CV yet or apply to that weather station after all.

Love

Tony

NCISNCIS

Mary had a thoughtful look on her face as she finished reading the letter. She had felt a pang when she read about Tony's 'extenuating' reasons for leaving Philadelphia.

The week before it had happened everything had seemed to be going well for Tony. He had been in Philly for about eighteen months and the previous weekly letter had 'casually' dropped in the news that he had just celebrated a three month anniversary with his girlfriend, a young doctor named Sally, and also that he had passed the exams which could lead to him being promoted to detective.

Three days later the bottom dropped out of Mary's world when Carl was knocked down in a hit and run accident and left with multiple injuries and an uncertain outcome. Tony had come down at once and sat with Mary in the hospital for two days until finally Carl regained consciousness and it seemed that he would get better after all. It was clear, however, that the recovery period would be a long one. Tony sat in on some of the consultations with Carl's doctors but then had to go back to work. Mary wondered how she and Carl would manage during his recovery: neither of them had family nearby and they hadn't lived in Baltimore long enough to make many friends.

Three days later she returned home late at night after visiting Carl in hospital to find Tony's Mustang parked outside. When she went into her house, she found Tony in the kitchen frowning over a cookery book.

"Hi, Mary, how did Cook make it all look so easy? I've just spent half an hour mashing these potatoes and they're still lumpy with grey bits in." He peered discontentedly into the pan. Mary looked in too.

"Tony, did you take the skins off before you mashed them?" She laughed at Tony's bewildered expression.

"Never mind," he said, "we'll just order some pizza instead."

"I wasn't expecting you," said Mary, "I thought you'd used up all your leave."

An odd expression flashed across Tony's face – a mixture of wariness, anxiety and determination.

"I've left Philly. I'm going to stay with you for a while and help when Carl comes out of the hospital. Although it might be better if I don't do the cooking ..." He saw Mary opening her mouth to protest and carried on quickly,

"My captain from Philly is going to put in a good word for me at Baltimore – he thinks I stand a good chance of being taken on. You'll need help when Carl comes home – I can lift him, drive him to the hospital when you're at work. I can put my phys ed degree to good use – all that sports science. I know about bones and muscles and massage and so on."

"Tony, you're about to become a detective. You can't just leave ... and what about Sally?" Tony just shrugged.

"Tony, I can't ask ..." Tony interrupted her,

"Don't say 'I can't ask you to do this' ... you're not asking, I'm just doing it. There's no point in saying anything, it's done and can't be undone". He stared at her defiantly and for a moment or two their eyes locked in a battle of wills. Mary didn't exactly give in but she realised that Tony wanted, and needed, to do this and she realised that she wanted him to do it. She would never have asked him to do it but she was both grateful and proud that he had. She didn't say anything but just nodded, kissed him on the cheek and then said,

"No pizza, my lad. I'm going to teach you how to make proper mashed potato!"

And so it had turned out as Tony planned. Carl had come home a couple of weeks later to his own, not always entirely competent, personal assistant and they had all muddled through together. Tony was determinedly cheerful the whole time and never gave any hint of resentment at the hiccup in his plans. Carl got taken on increasingly long drives as Tony got to know his new city – Carl might not have chosen to go to some of the places his chauffeur took him but Tony obviously felt it important to visit some of the less salubrious areas. 'Research' he called it, 'local color'.

Carl got to see another side of Tony in the long months of his recovery: a compassionate and patient Tony who was not offended on the days when Carl was grumpy or irritable. It wasn't perfect, of course, and on the days when Tony got things wrong Carl sometimes thought a professional health care aide might have been better ... but, he realised, it wouldn't have been so much fun! And he wouldn't have learned so much about movies ...

After six months Carl was well enough that Tony could start work for the Baltimore Police Department and two months after that moved into his own apartment. Mary and Carl were sad to see him go but were pleased that they were all living so close together and reasoned that _surely _he'd be able to settle down now ...


End file.
